what a gloomy day
i hide from myself
in this small café
where i am nothing
but a face among others
just as
meaningless
(no good poems
ever started this way)
cars drive by
a man in a suit
the waiter looks lost
it must be her first day
a man is staring at me
from across the room
unshaven, wild-eyed
a series of
pointless observations
will bring me no closer
to heaven
today
what a gloomy day
Bukowski, keep me company
i really think you were
onto something
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Kommentit
You might be mistaken when you say no good poems ver started that way. I know at least of one. Happy birthday, by the by - it is the same as mine.